Every year, when the Spring Festival cos around, one question always shows up first: What are we eating?
For most Chinese families, the holiday is simple. Sit and eat. Stand and eat. Take a break, then eat again. If you do not put on a few pounds, it barely feels like the New Year.
On the morning of February 9, New Year's Eve, Chinese fans woke up to sothing even better than a feast at ho. They had Lin Yi.
Minnesota that season felt restless. Teams were reshuffling, chasing super teams or sliding into rebuilds. Things moved fast. Wins, losses, hope, doubt. It all changed week to week. Still, there was sothing constant about it.
Every ti Lin Yi stepped on the court, you were reminded how unforgiving this league could be.
Roll back two weeks.
. . .
January 24, 2012
TD Garden.
The Knicks visited the Celtics. With Rajon Rondo out for the season, Boston leaned on experience and pride, but that only goes so far against a player in rhythm.
Lin Yi played 36 minutes and put up 40 points on 14 of 26 shooting.
He added 15 rebounds, 5 assists, and 3 blocks. Four threes. Perfect from the line. Another long night for Boston.
Two days later, at the Wells Fargo Center, the 76ers tried their luck. It did not go well.
Lin stretched the floor to an absurd range, drilling a logo three and turning around before it even dropped. By the ti it splashed through, the crowd had already gone quiet. He finished with 43 points and 11 boards.
January 27, back ho against the Hawks. Joe Johnson was gone, and Josh Smith tried to hold the wing, but Lin kept coming. Thirty shots, fifteen makes, 44 points. Efficient enough, relentless as always.
On January 30, the Magic ca to Madison Square Garden. Orlando was in full rebuild mode, but Lin was not interested in rcy. He went 20 of 30 from the field, scored 48 points, and grabbed 16 rebounds. Every defensive sche looked a step slow.
On February 1, he was nad Eastern Conference Player of the Month for January. That sa night, he dropped 43 on the Bucks. The running joke among fans was that he was collecting trophies like hunting prizes: deer hide, venison, the whole package.
February 2, the Kings. Another 40-plus ga, his sixth straight. Sacranto head coach Keith Smart admitted after the ga that even a physically gifted big man like Tristan Thompson could not slow Lin once he got downhill.
The Kings were stuck in a long losing streak, and even Thompson's modest stat line was treated as a small victory.
February 4, the Pistons. Andre Drummond struggled at the line again, going 0 for 10, and foul trouble kept him quiet. Lin took advantage of the thin interior defense and calmly added another 40. Seven straight gas over 40.
The Arican dia started counting out loud.
February 6, Washington. Bradley Beal drove hard in the second quarter, looking for a dunk to lift the building. Lin t him at the rim and sent it back. After the play, he reached down and helped Beal up.
"Welco to the league," he said lightly.
Beal stood there for a second, still processing it. John Wall watched from the side with a faint smile, choosing his monts more carefully these days.
Yi Jianlian had a strong night as well, scoring 25 on efficient shooting. Chinese fans joked that he had earned his dumplings, too. Still, the spotlight belonged to Lin.
When the final buzzer sounded, Charles Barkley could barely contain himself on the broadcast.
"Eight in a row. Eight straight gas with 40 or more. He's one away from tying Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant at nine."
Barkley had reason to be loud. A few gas earlier, after Lin's third straight 40-point night, he had talked Shaquille O'Neal into a bet. Barkley insisted Lin had flipped a switch and would break the consecutive 40-plus record. Shaq was skeptical. Eight was impressive. Nine felt unrealistic. They shook on it anyway.
. . .
Now the scene shifts to the Target Center in Minneapolis. The scoreboard reads 88 to 67 midway through the third quarter. The Knicks are in control, and Lin has just stepped to the line and pushed his total to 35.
Both teams are wearing Chinese New Year jerseys. Lanterns hang around the arena. The setting is festive, but the ho crowd was quiet. It feels like soone else is enjoying the celebration.
Back in China, fans are laughing in front of their screens.
"This year," one comnt reads, "no gifts needed. Just give us another 40."
Minnesota was not bad that night. Since trading for Ricky Rubio, their rhythm had improved, and the ball moved with more purpose. The record reflected that. Still, one weakness remained from their last ti facing the Knicks.
Their wing defense struggled to contain strong downhill players, and that was not the kind of flaw you want against Lin Yi.
With 4 minutes and 57 seconds left in the third, Lin caught the ball up top and drove hard with both hands on it. Nikola Peković was pulled away from the paint by Marcus Morris, who spaced out to the periter. Kevin Love, already sitting on four fouls, stayed cautious and kept his hands back.
Lin went straight to the rim and finished off the glass.
90 to 67.
That was his 37th point.
Over the past two weeks, he had been in full attack mode. His teammates were feeding him early and often, almost as if everyone understood what was building. The schedule helped too. Several recent opponents were short on periter stoppers and rim protection. The opportunity was there, and he was not about to ignore it.
If this was the window, he was going through it.
On the next few possessions, Lin barely looked to pass. Teammates joked that he had deleted the pass button. All he saw was the rim.
They half-teased, saying, "You sure this is team basketball?"
Lin shot back with a grin, "Talk to Kobe about that."
Minnesota tried to respond, but a careless possession changed everything. Rubio hesitated at the top, and Chris Paul read it perfectly, stripping the ball clean. Paul pushed in transition. Lin sprinted with him, then suddenly slowed near the arc.
They locked eyes for a split second.
Paul understood.
Instead of driving all the way, Paul fired it back out. Lin caught it two steps beyond the three-point line and went straight up into his shot.
The ball sailed in a clean arc and dropped without touching the rim.
93 to 67.
Forty points.
On the broadcast, Charles Barkley nearly jumped out of his seat.
"That's nine! Nine straight gas with 40 or more!"
Shaquille O'Neal slapped his thigh in disbelief. "Man, we should've stopped that bet while I was still ahead."
Barkley pointed across the desk. "Don't bla . Bla the ga. I told you he was in scoring mode."
The arena buzzed, even with the ga out of reach. History has a way of cutting through everything.
"Lin Yi has tied Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant with nine consecutive 40-point gas."
Shaq shook his head, half impressed, half annoyed.
"This guy," he muttered, "he's built to score."
. . .
Please do leave a review and powerstones, which helps with the book's exposure.
Feel like joining a Patreon for free and subscribing to advanced chapters?
Visit the link:
[email protected]/GRANDMAESTA_30
Change @ to a
User Comments
0 comments from readers